


The Verdict

by bioloyg



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Everyone works on the human rights campaign, First Kiss, Fluff, Human AU, M/M, Pining, microscopic amount of, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica’s excited inhale eclipses all further thoughts and she breathes out a knowing, “Soooo...”</p><p>Even though she can’t see him he arches an eyebrow. “So, what?”</p><p>“So, marriage is legal in all fifty states.”</p><p>Stiles rolls his eyes. “As we’ve both gathered.”</p><p>“Now you have to tell Derek you love him.”</p><p>This time he does spit out his coffee. He wipes the drink from his chin with the back of his hand before scrabbling for tissues to wipe the rest off of his desk and shirt. “What?”</p><p>“Erica,” she starts in a high-pitched voice that is somehow meant to mimic him. “When everyone is free to marry I’ll tell Derek how I really feel.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Verdict

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something short in celebration of the SCOTUS ruling on marriage equality! Tbh I imagine Erica and Lydia being ruthless division heads for their local chapter of the Human Rights Campaign and I feel like everyone else would be really into that as well so I enjoyed this tiny fic and I hope you do too!

Stiles hears about it accidentally while he's perusing the internet over a cup of coffee on his way to work.

**_The Supreme Court has declared the ban on Same Sex marriage unconstitutional._ **

He almost spits out his coffee.

Being in California, this ruling doesn’t make much of a difference for him. Cali has had marriage equality for a few years now. But, for other people Stiles knows across the country that aren’t lucky to live in a state where lawmakers actually do _something_ , even the small moves that California makes toward just plain being fair, this is a big deal.

He’s actually surprised that he found out on his own and that –

 _Bzz bzz bzz_. His phone screen diverts from that of a rainbow tinted picture of the Supreme Court building to a picture of Erica’s face.

“Ah,” he hums amusedly. “There’s the phone call I was expecting.”

As soon as he picks it up a loud booming yell fills his ears. “Gaaaaaaay marriaaaaaaage!”

He looks around the street as he crosses over, both hoping there’s no one around and that a car might hit him and spare him. “ _Hello_ , Erica.”

Squeals of laughter ring out somewhere in the background and Erica shushes them. “Did you hear?”

He smiles. “Yes, yes, I heard. Marriage equality is a thing now. Congratulations.” Erica has practically been lobbying for marriage equality since she was of legal age, he understands her unfettered excitement, even though he’s more mellow about it.

She hums happily into the line. “Isn’t it about fucking time?”

He nods as he opens the door to his office. “It sure as hell is, but our jobs aren’t finished.”

Erica’s sigh is a little less whimsical this time. “Oh here it comes.”

“Just because we won the marriage fight doesn’t mean we stop. I mean, transgender people still have next to no rights in _all_ fifty states, even here. And bodily autonomy for women, almost nonexistent, you know that better than I do.” He’s about to take a deep breath to continue when Erica cuts him off.

“Stiles, relax, just a little.” She shoos whoever is in her office and closes the door. “I know we have a long way to go, trust me. I’m out here everyday. But sometimes – sometimes you have to enjoy the little things. Do you know how many older couples there are that have been waiting since – god – the 80’s or, or even the 60’s and back just to marry the people they’ve loved?”

He sets his coffee down on the table and opens the blinds, allowing light to pour over his desk. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll loosen up.”

Erica’s excited inhale eclipses all further thoughts and she breathes out a knowing, “Soooo...”

Even though she can’t see him he arches an eyebrow. “So, what?”

“ _So_ , marriage is legal in all fifty states.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “As we’ve both gathered.”

“Now you have to tell Derek you love him.”

This time he does spit out his coffee. He wipes the drink from his chin with the back of his hand before scrabbling for tissues to wipe the rest off of his desk and shirt. “ _What?_ ”

“Erica,” she starts in a high-pitched voice that is somehow meant to mimic him. “When everyone is free to marry I’ll tell Derek how I really feel.”

His face heats up, “Erica that’s – that’s not. Ugh. I can’t just,”

Someone knocks on the door of his office and his heart surges up into his throat. “I have to go.”

“Oh come on! You better tell him Stilinski. If I have to deal with another week of UST when I visit I swear to –”

“Bye! Erica, bye!” He clicks end and hides the phone behind his back as the door opens.

Scott takes one look at him and his face contorts in confusion. “You okay, Stiles?”

He deflates tenfold and slumps against his desk. “Oh, it’s you. Yeah. I’m good – I’m,” his lips curve upward. “I’m great actually. Today’s a big day.”

His best friend nods, grin brightening the room. “We can check one more thing off the list.”

“Yeah, this is awesome. I can’t wait til Lydia gets here. She’s gonna be so excited, even if she blows a fuse trying to sort out what this means for our agenda this next month.”

Scott laughs, “Yeah and the San Fran Pride Parade is in two days.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Shit!”

“Oh man, you forgot didn’t you?”

He levels Scott with a glare that falls just short of murderous. “No! I mean, yes, but only for five minutes.” He slaps a hand onto his forehead and groans, “I’m gonna have to write a speech.”

His friend nods sympathetically. “I’ll have Liam pick up some more coffee.”

“You're a life saver, Scott,” he croons.

"I know!"

~

“Stiles, please tell me you’ve already started on a statement of some sort about the ruling this morning,” Lydia says on the tail end of a sigh as she strides into his office. She stops and presses a hand to her hip. “You _did_ hear about the ruling, right?”

He waves a hand at her from behind his monitor. “Yeah, yeah. Even if I hadn’t read about it this morning you know Erica never would’ve let me go five minutes without some sort of comment.”

Lydia smiles, a twinge of fond admiration creeping in. The smile morphs into something more cutting as she adds. “Try to have a rough draft for me by noon today, two o’clock at the latest. Pride starts tomorrow and the parade is in two days. I’d like to work something into that.”

The keyboard clack ceases momentarily. “I’ll see what I can do.” He looks at the screen in front of him and scrolls a bit. He hums out, “Probably one o’clock.”

She nods briskly and exits.

~

A faint knock sounds against the frame of his open door. It’s late, after the work day, and Stiles could’ve sworn everyone else checked out for the night.

“Come in.” He doesn't look up, keeps reading the speech and biting his fingernails as he goes through it for the umpteenth time today.

A coffee appears by his side, fresh and hot and – “ _Ohhh_ my god, does this have cinnamon in it?” Stiles takes a deep breath and wraps his hands around it. It soothes the cramps in his fingers almost instantly.

The coffee saint goes to the other side of the room and turns on the main light. “Cinnamon and one pump of vanilla.”

Stiles looks up from where the drink is practically cradled in his hands. “Should’ve known it was you. Only you and Scott treat me this nice, but he always forgets the vanilla.”

Derek sits on the other side of his desk and smiles at him, small and private, like always. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Stiles answers, quietly. “How was your day? I didn’t really get to see you, ‘ve been busy.” He motions to his computer.

“It was good. Great actually. Laura got married at her local county clerk’s office as soon as the ruling was made.”

He sets down his coffee, mouth agape. “Her and Braeden? Holy shit that’s awesome! I’ll have to congratulate her,” he looks at his watch and trails off with, “Tomorrow.”

It really is late. Late enough that Stiles knows there’s only one place open to get coffee like this right now and Derek went there.

Derek likes him.

Stiles likes him right back, and this knowledge is nothing new, but he doesn’t want to mess their friendship up. Doesn’t know just how _far_ the like extends.

His thoughts are interrupted as Derek asks, “What are you doing here so late?”

He sighs after a heavenly sip of his drink. “I could ask you the same thing, bud.”

“I’m making sure you don’t fall asleep here. You’ve done it before.”

Stiles purses his lips. “I keep a change of clothes here now, thank you.”

He shakes his head, “Not what I meant. Shouldn’t you be out celebrating or something? I know Scott and Isaac are.”

A shrug disrupts his false nonchalance. “Maybe. I had a speech to write though.”

Derek ah’s and leans forward. “Is it finished?”

Stiles looks back down at his monitor. Technically yes, it is finished. He was just working on a couple of transitions and making sure everything flowed together nicely. Lydia had signed off on it two hours ago, but he hadn’t felt like he was done so he’d stayed behind to tweak. “Sort of.”

“Hmm, sort of. Sort of as in you have more to write or the kind of sort of that means you’re perfecting everything down to the last period.”

He blushes at that. “I – it’s – this is big and I don’t want to mess it up. I need to address how big a step this is while making sure the people know that their other grievances aren’t forgotten and –”

“Stiles.”

He bites his bottom lip. “Hmm?”

“I’m sure it’s great. Did Lydia read it yet?”

He nods.

“And?” Derek prods, standing.

“She said it was good.”

Derek rests his hip against the side of the desk. “Good, huh? That’s high praise coming from her.”

He buries his face in the lid of his coffee and drinks, hoping it covers the red that has since extended to his neck and ears. “Yeah…”

After a beat Derek asks another question. “Have you eaten anything tonight?”

Setting the cup down he rubs the back of his neck. “I had something a few hours ago.”

A dubious look crosses over Derek’s face. “An actual meal or Reese’s cups?”

If Stiles' face gets any more red he’s gonna combust. “It was – it was _food_.”

“Get up,” Derek orders calmly. “Come on. Save the speech and take it with you. We’re getting food.”

“But, it’s fine, really. I’m not even –” his mutinous stomach growls at him right then. _Oh you sonofa_ –

Derek is practically oozing smugness. “What was that you were going to say? You’re not hungry?”

He lets his head hit the desk, “ _Fine_. I’m picking though.”

~

They end up at the diner Stiles frequents on his late nights after work. It runs twenty-four hours and is usually riddled truck drivers. As such, all of the booths are taken and the two of them are left at the “bar” on the twisty stools Stiles will never admit that he loves. Derek looks like he already knows.

A waitress passes by and rolls her eyes at Stiles as she balances a tray on her arm. “Do you ever come in at a reasonable hour?”

He can hear Derek’s quiet chuckle and jabs him in the stomach with his elbow. “Good evening to you too, Marissa. And _yes_ , I do.”

Marissa lifts an eyebrow at him and sashays away to serve a table to their left. She comes back a few moments later. “Coming in once to grab coffee does not count, Stiles.” She looks at Derek and a predatory grin flits across her features. “At least you brought me something nice.”

Derek goes red in the cheeks and ducks behind a menu while Stiles glares at her. “ _Actually_ , he brought me, so it looks like _I’m_ your present.”

“Coal again? Serves me right for being so _naughty,"_ she purrs.

Stiles nearly falls out of his seat and Derek sounds like he’s choking on something.

“Sometimes I forget how much of a flirt Marissa can be,” Stiles says loudly as she rounds the bend into the kitchen for their coffee. He turns to Derek, “She’s married, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s not her I have ideas about.”

Stiles swivels his seat toward him. “Oh, but you do have ideas about someone?”

“Yes,” he admits before turning away to his menu again.

Before he can make a move to respond Marissa sets down their coffee and pulls out her pad and pen. “Alright, what can I get you two?”

He looks down at the menu that he hasn’t even touched and then back at Marissa with a deadpan look on his face. She snorts and scribbles down his usual order. “Okay, what about you?”

Derek flips the menu down and away from his face, though he still looks at it to read his order. “Can I get the egg special? Uh, eggs over medium and can I get ham instead of sausage?”

Marissa smiles lightly and writes it down. “Sure thing. Ham’s a little extra. That alright?”

He nods and hands her his menu along with Stiles’.

“Toast or pancakes?”

“Toast,” Derek decides immediately.

She hums and flicks her pen against the notepad. “What kind? We have wheat, rye, white, and sourdough.”

“Dark rye or regular?”

“Regular.”

Derek puts one packet of plain creamer into his coffee and says, “Rye then. Please.”

She takes their orders back and moves on to a different set of people. A few patrons later and they have their own pot of coffee to serve themselves.

Despite the multiple cups of coffee, both free and purchased, the day seems to catch up with Stiles all at once and he slumps forward onto the counter. “I’m so tired.”

Derek swirls his spoon in his mug absentmindedly. “I can see that. Are you gonna want to eat?”

He snorts. “Derek. _Derek_ , _Derek_ , _Derek_. I will always be lucid enough for a meal when I’m hungry.”

The man rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

Stiles rests his head on the back of his hands and looks up at Derek, thinking for a moment. Derek is really pretty. He’s got a chiseled face, a strong sturdy jaw Stiles thinks about a lot, cute bunny teeth that negate his resting bitch face, and kaleidoscope eyes filled with greens, blues, and tans – orange if the light hits them just right.

He must feel Stiles' gaze because he looks down at him with an eyebrow already perched in question. “What?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, just exhausted and groggy.

“Nothin’. S’just thinking.”

His eyebrow stays put. “About?”

Stiles shrugs and moves up just enough to prop his arm on the counter and hold his head up by his chin. “You I guess.”

Derek’s other eyebrow joins the surprise party and the blood rushes back into his face again. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a quick breath and leans forward onto the counter as well. “Anything good?”

A small smirk breaks across Stiles’ face. “Oh sure.” He grabs his coffee and mumbles into it, “Plenty bad things too.”

When he looks back Derek’s ears are also a delicious shade of pink. “Like what?”

Stiles shrugs again. He’s lucky he’s just sleepy enough to be emboldened and smooth but just lucid enough to play coy. “Depends.”

Derek edges closer. “What does it depend on?”

“Who you have ideas about.”

“And what if it’s you?” Derek whispers, face slack, eyes searching every bit of Stiles for a truth he’ll only get when Stiles speaks.

He inches closer to whisper out his answer when Marissa drops their food down in front of them. Her timing is not the best, and if Stiles knew any better he’d think it was intentional the way she smiles and winks at him as she heads to another table.

Stiles clears his throat and sits up, sobered by the interruption. He stares at his food for a solid three minutes before he manages to cast a glance in Derek’s direction; he hasn’t touched his food either.

“Derek are you hungry?”

The man turns to him and casts a look between him and his plate. “… Not really. Are you?”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes never leaving Derek’s. “I mean I am, but – no, I’m not.”

“What do you want to do now?”

Stiles breaks eye contact and pushes a fork into his hashbrowns. “Do you feel like going for a walk?”

Derek huffs out an amused breath. “At twelve in the morning.”

“To talk,” Stiles elaborates.

He holds out his hand to catch Marissa’s attention. “Okay.”

~

They find a park, one with swings large enough to accommodate teenagers, which is about how old Stiles feels right now. He’s that weird sleepy giddy, excited and languid all at once. Slow moving, but filled with this odd thrum of happiness he can’t quite place.

Derek leans against a support beam as Stiles toes himself back and forth on a swing. He looks more tired than giddy, but Stiles can tell how relaxed he is, how loose his limbs are. He’d probably be swinging if he didn’t think he could use this against Stiles in an argument later. Lydia already thinks he’s childish though so the image of him on a swing-set won’t change that.

“You’re weird,” Stiles hums, just above a whisper.

Derek does his trademark almost laugh, topped off with an almost smile. “Weird. Is that what you took me on a walk to tell me?”

Stiles shakes his head and leans back in the swing. “No – no I took you on a walk to tell you a story.”

“A story?”

“Yes, now stop repeating everything I say and sit down.” He lifts himself back up and jerks a thumb in the direction of the swing beside him.

Derek reluctantly joins him on the swing-set and moves back and forth, his hands jammed in his pockets. The air of casualness encasing him is almost startling. “Alright, tell me your story before I fall asleep.”

Stiles sticks out his tongue and swings a little bit more seriously, not by much, enough to take the ground just out of his reach. “You remember when we visited the HRC in Dallas a couple years ago?”

“How could I forget?” Derek muses through a yawn. “Erica wouldn’t stop talking about my ass when she thought I couldn’t hear.”

He laughs. “Oh man, I remember that. Erica and I were paired up for like half of the events that week, and we ended up competing against you and Boyd most of the time.”

Derek hums beside him. “Yeah, that was a lot of fun.”

“I’m sure it was, you two were ruthless.”

He turns to Stiles and levels him with a look. “Please, you and Erica sabotaged us on the dunk tank.”

A sharp laugh cuts into the quiet June air and Stiles almost loses his balance on the swing. He toes himself to a stop and catches his breath. “Not important.”

“Uh _huh_.”

Stiles waves a hand at him and pulls him to a stop. He leans against the chain on the swing and looks at Derek. “Erica made fun of me that whole trip. You wanna know why?

“Because you’re a clumsy mess?”

He narrows his eyes. “ _No_. She made fun of me because of my glaring crush on _you_.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise and it sounds like the breath gets knocked out of him, must have if the silence is anything to go by.

Stiles uses it to finish his story. “She kept telling me that I was an idiot for not saying anything to you, that she could just _tell_ how much we liked each other. I was worried I’d mess up our friendship so I told her to keep quiet, but Erica is… nothing if not driven.”

“I uh, I got her off my back by saying I’d tell you how I felt. And if I hadn’t told you by the time that every state had legalized same sex marriage then I’d do it when that happened. Imagine my surprise this morning."

The pause between them drags on so long that insecurity creeps in and Stiles almost considers getting up and walking back to his car, alone, like the idiot he is. But Derek does speak eventually. “Three years.”

“What?”

Derek turns back to him. “You haven’t said anything for three years.”

He blushes and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I – I like your company. I’d rather have you as a friend forever than nothing at all.”

“You’re the smartest dumbass I know,” Derek huffs out as he stands.

Stiles scrunches his eyebrows, “Wow, thanks Der–”

Derek pulls him forward by the swing and kisses him once, light and hesitant, shy, soft. Everything Stiles didn’t expect.

“Oh.”

He nods. “I’m always going to be your friend, Stiles.”

“Sure about that?” He gulps.

Derek answers with another kiss. His lips are a more insistent press, more sure in their course. His tongue flicks gently across Stiles’ lower lip and Stiles opens up on instinct. It feels like warmth, like desire in the simplest of its forms. Derek’s tongue slides forward and against his. He can’t really help the contented hum that rumbles between them, but that’s okay. Derek pulls him off the swing as he kisses him repeatedly, places his hands on Stiles’ face, drags him forward with one long smooth flick of his tongue inside of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles breaks away for air and curls his arms around Derek. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend kiss me like _that_.”

His neck is dotted with kiss after kiss and Derek chuckles into it but keeps going. “Maybe – you’ve had – the wrong friends.”

Stiles all but moans when Derek rolls his hips into him and he really wants to take this further, but. “Derek, Derek wait.”

He finishes sucking a hickey into Stiles’ skin and pulls away. Eyes lidded and hungry all at once. “What?”

“I can’t – I don’t want to be _just friends_ if that’s where this is going. My heart’s not wired for friends with benefits, gets a little too attached, so if – if that’s what you thought I meant…”

Derek pulls him forward again, but it’s just a hug. Stiles relaxes into it after a bit and threads his arms around Derek’s waist.

“Stiles."

He shoves his head into Derek’s neck. “Yeah?”

Derek turns to him and kisses his cheek. “Would you go to the San Francisco Pride Parade with me?”

“Well, yeah, I mean...”

“As my boyfriend,” Derek clarifies as he runs a soothing hand up and down his back.

Stiles looks up and smiles. “I’d love that.”

"Me too."

He squeezes Derek a little harder. "Does this count as our first date?"

Derek's laugh is sweet and honeyed, happy. "Sure."


End file.
